


Mending Bridges

by dracusfyre



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Excessive use of Tony's lab, M/M, Prompt Fill, little bit of pining, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:15:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12257796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: For prompt: After everyone gets pardoned and let back in the country TOny starts working on Buckys new arm. It starts out tense but grows into a friendship, they both start to get crushes on eachother and then there hits a point where Tony needs to work on Buckys shoulder in the front where its easier to get to by sitting on his lap. Awkwardness and fluff ensues





	Mending Bridges

            The first time, they sat in silence while Tony worked, a silence made tolerable only by the music Tony had playing loudly in his lab.  Bucky had sent him an email with the problems he was having, and Tony responded with a date and a time.  The second time, Bucky brought a book, but the third time he forgot and eventually got tired of staring over Tony’s shoulder and pretending like his arm was being worked on by a robot or an invisible fairy.

            “So I was wondering-“

            Without looking up, Tony took out the screwdriver he’d been holding in his mouth and said, “We don’t need to talk,” which was really saying something because according to the other Avengers Tony needed to talk like people needed to breathe. But Bucky got the hint and stared at the opposite wall of the lab, jaw tight.   

            He always remembered to bring a book and his iPod after that, but halfway through one maintenance session Bucky steeled his courage and said, “I know you hate me, and I want to say that I’m okay with that. I understand.  I mean, I didn’t mean for any of it to happen…” he trailed off, thinking of a dark gravel road in the middle of nowhere, and then his little walk-up apartment in Bucharest, shabby but safe.             Until Steve charged in ahead of the cavalry and it was all blown to shit. “But it did. So.  I’m sorry.” Bucky couldn’t bring himself to look at Tony so he put his earbuds in, turned the volume up, and buried his face pointedly in his book until Tony was done.

            The next time Bucky came in Tony seemed unusually tense.  Halfway through the session, Bucky had paused his music to pick something different when Tony started talking. “I don’t hate you,” Tony said in a low voice, keeping his eyes on the wires in Bucky’s arm, where a thin stream of smoke was coming up from his soldiering iron.  “You’re just…a reminder. It’s hard to…”  Bucky saw a muscle in Tony’s jaw flex.  “Anyway.  It’s not you. I’m sorry for making you think that.”  He glanced up at Bucky and looked away quickly when he saw Bucky watching him.  “And also for trying to, you know…kill you.” Tony didn’t look up again after that, so after a moment Bucky turned on a song at random and closed his eyes, feeling a knot of tension inside himself relax slightly.

           

            Then came the day that Bucky let himself into the lab and there was a stack of books next to the chair where he usually sat.  He was reading the summaries on the book jackets when Tony came up, cleaning grease off his hands with a shop rag. “JARVIS said you hadn’t read those yet.  You were reading one of his books last time, and, um, he’s one of my favorite authors, ” Tony said while he arranged the tools for working on Bucky’s arm, taking extra care to make sure they were cleaned and lined up neatly so that he could avoid meeting Bucky’s eyes. 

            “Thanks,” Bucky said with smile, recognizing the gift for the olive branch that it was.  “So, uh, what are we working on today?”

            “Steve mentioned a malfunction in your fingers?”

            Bucky snorted. “He just said that because I’ve just been giving him the bird a lot this week.”  Bucky grinned when that surprised a laugh out of Tony.  He opened up the first book of the stack to hide his face when he found himself thinking _holy shit that’s a beautiful smile._

           

            After that Bucky found himself looking forward to the next session, even though whatever was happening with Tony still felt fragile.  He found himself reluctant to even mention it to Steve, having some strange superstition that talking about it would mess things up somehow.  He’d already finished all the books that Tony had loaned him from last time so he tucked them under his arm and was scrolling through his iPod to find the band that he was going to have Tony listen to when he glanced up and came to a dead stop.

            The music in the lab was already up fairly loud, something with a lot of base that Bucky hadn’t heard before, and Tony was bent under the hood of a car, hips moving as he sang along.  All Bucky could see was how those shop jeans seemed to barely be hanging on and how Tony’s tank top was riding up as he reached deeper into the engine compartment, revealing the dimples at the base of Tony’s spine.  His mouth went dry when he helplessly imagined pressing his thumbs into those dimples while he pinned Tony against the car, rolling his hips against that ass as he slid Tony’s shirt up and put his mouth on-

            “Oh, hey Bucky.”  Tony’s voice startled him out of his reverie so abruptly that Bucky jerked and the books under his arm hit the floor.  Bucky scowled, feeling real smooth as he knelt to pick them up, glad that he’d had his iPod in his flesh hand or he might have crushed it.  The music in the lab died abruptly and Bucky heard Tony approaching.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

            “Not your fault,” Bucky said gruffly, fighting a blush as he handed the stack to Tony.  “I finished these, they were good.”

            Tony sat them down on his desk as he led Bucky back to their usual work station.  “I brought a new author I thought you would like,” he said, handing Bucky a new book as he sat down on his wheeled stool.

            “They made a movie about this one,” Bucky commented, recognizing the title.

            “Yeah, it’s alright.  The book is better, of course.” Tony cleared his throat, and was rearranging his tools in a way that Bucky was starting to recognize as nervous habit.  “So, um, I think today we need to take a look inside the shoulder.”

            “Ok.” Bucky looked at him blankly until he realized what Tony was trying to say.  “Oh. Yeah, ok, not a problem.” He sat forward enough to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. 

            He noticed that Tony was being careful not to look at his chest as he rearranged the lighting around the chair and felt a stab of self-consciousness at his scars.  To distract himself, he went back to scrolling through his iPod.  As Tony started removing some of the plates at the top of his shoulder, close to some of the worst of the scarring, Bucky handed him the earbuds.  “I, um, found a new band you might like.”

            Tony took them with a look of interest and put them in his ears as Bucky pressed play.  After a minute, Bucky asked, “What do you think?” He started to stop the music but Tony took the iPod out of his hand, looked at the name of the band, and slid the iPod in his back pocket as he went back to work.

            “I like it,” he said, offering Bucky another one of those beautiful smiles, and Bucky found himself smiling in return.    

***

            “So exactly how many motorcycles did Steve go through during the war?” Tony asked randomly one day, squinting down at the tiny fuses he was replacing in Bucky’s arm.

            “Oh my God.” Bucky put his book down and aimed a glare at the ceiling, as if he could see Steve’s guilty look through five stories of concrete. “Is he _still_ throwing them at people?”

            “Yes!”  Tony tightened down the last plate on Bucky’s arm and patting it unthinkingly, something that Bucky noticed he did to all of his electronics when he was done working on them.  He hid his smile as Tony kept talking and turned to put his tools away.  “I’m thinking about giving him a bicycle for the next mission.”

***

            “I don’t have to sit here and be _insulted_ like this,” Tony said with a scowl, pointing his screwdriver at Bucky.

            “Yes you do.  You have half my arm disassembled on your work bench.  Now as I was saying, the remake of _Red Dawn_ is better than the original because-“

            “JARVIS! Music, volume level nine!”

            Grinning widely, Bucky just spoke louder to be heard over the sudden screaming of Metallica. “-And _Apocalypse Now_ is just an overrated adaptation of _Heart of Darkness_ -“ 

When Tony put his hands over his ears and started chanting “ _shut up shut up_ ” Bucky wanted to kiss him so badly that it took his breath away.

***

            A few days later Bucky was leaning against the kitchen counter eating cereal out of the box and drinking orange juice out of the carton when Tony breezed in, throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair.  He rolled up his shirt sleeves as he headed straight for the coffee pot with a flash of a smile and a “Hey, Bucky.” 

            Bucky thought he grunted something in return but mostly he was staring at the corded muscles in Tony’s forearms and wrists as he cradled the coffee mug like it was water in a desert.  Today he was wearing a deep blue shirt that made his dusky skin glow and a vest that emphasize the compact, lean lines of his chest and waist.   Tony had loosened his tie and the top buttons of his shirt, revealing the tantalizing hollow at the base of his throat.  Bucky wanted to lick it. 

            Bucky swallowed with difficulty and forced himself to look away, trying not to feel self-conscious about his hair pulled up in a messy bun and the beat-up sweatpants he stole from Steve.

            “Breakfast of champions?” Tony asked after he drained half his coffee cup in one go.

            “What?” Bucky said stupidly, for a terrifying second wondering if Tony somehow knew what he’d been thinking about.

            Tony gestured with his mug at the box of cereal still in Bucky’s hands.  “Straight from the box? Didn’t want to do any dishes?”

            “Oh. Yeah. That, but mostly because it aggravates Steve,” Bucky answered without thinking, distracted by the way Tony’s throat moved when he drank his coffee.

            Tony refilled his mug and saluted Bucky with it. “In that case, carry on.  I gotta run to another meeting.”

            Bucky just grunted again, staring at his feet so he wouldn’t stare at Tony’s ass in those tailored pants as Tony walked away.  Christ, he was in trouble.       

 

            Tony kept his cool until he got to the elevator, pretending to look at his phone until he heard the elevator doors slide shut.  Then he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool metal walls, replaying the image of Bucky looking like he had just rolled out of bed, eyes heavy-lidded, hair looking like someone had been fisting their hands in it.  His voice had been a deep, sleep-roughened rumble that Tony wanted to feel again under his lips.  But more than the heat of want that was curling in his groin, Tony had wanted to step into the circle of Bucky’s arms and tell him about his morning, to see if he could get one of those rare smiles out of him.  

            The elevator dinged, interrupting his thoughts.  He let out a long breath and realized that he might be in trouble.

            And also that he forgot his suit jacket upstairs.  Shit. No way he was going back up there and giving himself another chance to embarrass himself in front of Bucky.

***

            “Bucky,” Tony said seriously, putting his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and shaking him slightly to emphasize how serious he was, “there’s no goddamn way the third Indiana Jones movie is better than the first one.”

            “Two words, Tony: Sean. Connery.”

            “I think you just have a thing for silver foxes,” Tony smirked, turning away to push the button on the elevator for the kitchen.  Bucky frowned for a moment until he realized what Tony was talking about, and then Tony watched with interest as his face got red.

            “So?” Bucky challenged. “It also has a better plot.”

            “Whatever you say, hot stuff,” Tony said with a grin, putting his hands in his pockets against the urge to touch Bucky again, maybe smooth a hand over the soft fabric of the t-shirt stretch over Bucky’s chest.  He rocked back on his heels and looked at Bucky’s reflection in the elevator doors.  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

***

            “Can you lay back?”  Bucky felt a chill in his stomach but he nodded and let Tony recline the seat.  The farther back it went, though, the worse the feeling got until he realized he was shaking.

            “No! No, Tony, I can’t, I can’t. I’m sorry.” Bucky sat up and put his face in his hands.  He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, just then realizing that Tony was rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades and talking soft and low.

            “You ok?”

            Bucky nodded again but meant it this time.  “Sorry, I didn’t – “

            “Don’t apologize.  I’m glad you didn’t force yourself.  Do you need to take a break?”

            “Just a minute, I’ll be ok.” Tony’s hand was still a warm, grounding presence on his back; he focused on that until the shaky feeling passed. 

            “Are you ready?” At Bucky’s nod, Tony studied him for a moment. “Can you put your arm up over your head? Like you’re trying to scratch your back?”  When Bucky obeyed, Tony rolled the chair over to the work desk and grabbed the set of delicate looking tools required to get the plates off the arm. But the angle still wasn’t working.  Tony stood, but then he was blocking the light. His stool couldn’t get close enough because of the arm of the chair.  After about ten minutes of getting increasingly frustrated, they both started realizing what needed to be done.

            “I don’t mind,” Bucky said when he knew they were both thinking the same thing.  His heart started pounding and he hoped Tony didn’t notice. 

            “Alright.  I’ll try not to take long.” Tony bit his lip for a moment, and climbed into Bucky’s lap, straddling his hips and leaning over slightly.

            Bucky pressed his lips tightly together and focused on looking anywhere but at the smoothly muscled shoulders in front of his face or the line of Tony’s neck or the jut of his collarbones right within biting distance.  He tried to get his mind off the warm weight shifting in his lap by thinking about – about- Christ, he couldn’t think of anything to think about. 

            Tony leaned over a little farther, intent on prying off one of the access plates, and Bucky felt the second that the chair started to turn over.  He grabbed the work table with one hand and went to grab Tony with the other, forgetting in the split second of panic that Tony was working on it.  He ended up elbowing Tony in the clavicle, but they didn’t hit the floor.

            “Ow,” Tony said, rubbing the spot, which was already turning red.

            “Sorry, the chair-“

            “No, it’s ok.  Better than face-planting the concrete.” Tony braced himself on Bucky’s arm and reached down to grab the tools he dropped. “Let’s try again?”

            Bucky nodded and exhaled, closing his eyes this time to try to avoid the temptation of Tony’s chest right in front of his face. He focused on his breathing while Tony worked, counting while he inhaled and exhaled like he was managing a panic attack.   

            It didn’t help at all.  Because with his eyes closed he could feel how Tony’s thighs were squeezing his hips tightly to keep his balance, how his breath was stirring the hair at Bucky’s temples, how his heart was pounding –

            Bucky’s eyes flew open and caught Tony looking at him.

            “You know, normally this is the cheesiest line,” Tony said with a quirk at the corner of his mouth, eyes dark as they met Bucky’s. “But since it’s you, I have to ask.  Is that a gun in your pocket, or…?”

            Bucky cleared his throat, feeling his face get hot. “Um, both? I’m sorry. Could you…” Tony nodded and rose up on his knees.  After a second of staring at the tempting glimpse of skin where Tony’s shirt rose up over the waist of his jeans – Bucky had to bite his tongue against the urge to taste it - he squirmed enough to get the snub nosed pistol out of his pants pocket and set it on the work table.

            “That’s better,” Tony commented as he settled back down on Bucky’s thighs, a lot closer than he’d been before.

            “Yeah?” Bucky had to agree.  Tony smelled faintly like some kind of woodsy cologne and grease.  He wanted to bury his face in Tony’s neck to get more.

            “Yeah. I was worried it was going to go off prematurely.”

            Bucky bit back a smile. “No, it doesn’t have that light of a trigger.  It does have a quick, um, reload though.”

            “Good to know.” The heat in Tony’s eyes when he slanted an amused glance at Bucky gave him goosebumps.  His hand tightened on the table to keep from grabbing Tony and pulling him closer.

            The rest of the session was a pleasant torture; he caught on that Tony was teasing him the third time that his hand brushed Bucky’s chest unnecessarily as he reached for the tools on the table. Bucky retaliated by periodically shifting in the chair, flexing his hips and thighs in a way that always made Tony’s breath hitch and his heart race.

            He watched as Tony closed up his arm, hands quick and sure and capable, and felt the slight pressure when Tony ran a finger down the underside of his upper arm to make sure that the fit of the plates was smooth and seamless.  “There. Finished.”

            “Are we?” Bucky finally brought his arm down and settled his hands on Tony’s waist like he’d been wanting to do for what felt like hours. Tony’s gaze was moving over Bucky’s face, pupils blown, and finally settled on Bucky’s mouth, where he had unconsciously been biting his lip while he waited for Tony to answer.

            “No.  You and I haven’t even gotten started,” Tony said, and then his hands were framing Bucky’s jaw and his mouth was on Bucky’s, soft and warm.  Bucky made a noise deep in his throat and tightened his hands on Tony’s waist as he tilted his head and licked at the line of Tony’s lips, groaning when Tony opened his mouth and pressed closer.

            After a moment Tony pulled away and rested his forehead on Bucky’s, still staring at his mouth.  “So. Wanna do dinner sometime?”

            Bucky couldn’t help it. He drew back and made a look of mock surprise. “You eat? I thought you survived on caffeine and spite.”

            “Just for that, you’re paying.”

 


End file.
